


Just a phase

by LowkeyScrupious



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, ethel pov, hermione's secretary ethel, hugo is trans, hugo is trans and is closer to hermione's secretary ethel than hermione, spoiler - Freeform, the two most underrated characters in cursed child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:04:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LowkeyScrupious/pseuds/LowkeyScrupious
Summary: Although this was for the Shipmas prompt "Are you sure this is how the muggles decorate their Christmas trees without magic?" there are no ships in this ficlet so it' not technically part of shipmas, I don't want people getting the wrong idea! But thought I'd post it today anyway :)I was really nervous writing a trans character as I have 0 first hand experience and obviously this just needs justice. Hopefully it's okay, if not, please come chat to me on tumblr!





	Just a phase

**Author's Note:**

> Although this was for the Shipmas prompt "Are you sure this is how the muggles decorate their Christmas trees without magic?" there are no ships in this ficlet so it' not technically part of shipmas, I don't want people getting the wrong idea! But thought I'd post it today anyway :)  
> I was really nervous writing a trans character as I have 0 first hand experience and obviously this just needs justice. Hopefully it's okay, if not, please come chat to me on tumblr!

“Do you want hot chocolate Hugo?”

Ethel grinned as the boy took off his coat, still damp from the snow, and hung it on the wall, kicking off his boots as he did.

“Only if you are too Ethel!”

She smiled to herself at his friendly grin. “Fine,” she replied, making her way to the kitchen, Hugo trailing along after her.

Ethel loved having Hugo round. Even though Hugo was only eight, the pair of them got on like a house on fire. In particular, Ethel liked that he wasn’t like _other_ eight-year-olds. Hugo Granger-Weasley was the most calm and wizened child she’d ever met. She remembered the few times Hermione had asked her to look after Rose, and while it had been fine, Ethel never came away feeling like her life had been enriched. She felt guilty for thinking it, but there was no denying Hugo was her favourite.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked as she flicked her wand at the stove, which immediately began boiling some milk.

Hugo had always been wiser than his years. He liked to have plans, know what was going on, whether the day was going to be proactive, or an excuse to chill.  He walked around the island in the spacious kitchen and propped himself up so he was sat on the counter as she made the hot beverages.

“Well, I have the Christmas tree at last, Bob just got it this morning, so I thought we could decorate it,” Ethel suggested, already looking forward to the quality time.

“Nice!”

“Oh just wait, you haven’t heard the best of it yet. Bob thinks I’m mad, but I wanted to do it without magic this year. You know, like the muggles do. I’ve even got a box of my mum’s old muggle decorations!”

Hugo’s brown eyes widened, his brow furrowing. “Oh god Ethel, where did this sudden appreciation for muggle traditions come from?” he replied, rolling his eyes jokingly.

Ethel had to laugh with him. “Hey! It may not be a _completely_ stupid idea! Millions of muggles manage, and my mother used to cope just fine!”

But Hugo was just shaking his head, smiling. “Well, we’ll see, shan’t we?”

Deciding the milk was warm enough, Ethel conjured mugs and added the necessities, marshmallows and all. “There,” she said, handing him his mug after he slipped off the counter, and leading them back through to the living room.

“Merlin, Ethel, it’s huge!” Hugo exclaimed, trying to steady his drink as he blanched at the size of the tree sitting in the corner of the cosy space.

Ethel turned to him, frowning. “Do you think it’s _too_ big?” If Hugo thought it was large then everyone else would to, for sure. It was probably at least seven feet tall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling, the top even bending a bit to fit within the height constraints.

Hugo had obviously caught on to her concern, for he set his cocoa down and hurriedly tried to reassure her.

“No! No it’s fine, I just wondered how on earth you you’re going to get the fairy to the top of it without _wingardium leviosa_?”

It didn’t occur to Ethel that she should be surprised that Hugo knew the name of that spell. That was just Hugo. “Um, I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Ha! Well, we’ll figure something out.”

This was why Ethel loved having Hugo round. He was so wise and such a comforting presence, despite his youth. She would never voice it to anyone (except maybe Bob), but she thought Hugo had a very rough deal of things at home. It was clear he didn’t get on amazingly with his mother, it was as if Hermione didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, understand him and his ways. Ever since Hugo first voiced his desire to grow into a man, Hermione had been reluctant to ‘go along with it’. Ethel knew she loved her child, knew she wanted Hugo to be himself and to be happy, but Hugo’s transformation had strained their young relationship in ways she feared could be irreparable. Hermione was trying desperately, Ethel knew she was, but it was as if she couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to act, or even feel about the situation. Fortunately, she knew Hugo and Ron were very close, though she didn’t know how much they talked about the deep things. It was shocking, undoubtedly, when Hugo started refusing to wear the clothes they dressed him in, and worse when he asked them to call him a new name, but at his incredibly tender age no one had been sure whether it was real or the cliched ‘just a phase’. Two years down the line, Hugo was still perfectly happy as Hugo, and so everyone had just carried on with the male pronouns. Hermione hid it well, but over the years Ethel had seen her struggling, had seen the redness of her eyes on the occasional morning at work, and she’d known immediately what it was about. That was when Hermione had started to ask Ethel to take Hugo on a bit more regularly. She had never talked about this is detail, but Ethel knew it was because both Hermione _and_ Hugo were struggling, they _both_ needed some space. Plus Hugo loved coming round, and Ethel loved having him, so it was a perfect arrangement. Ethel doubted even Hugo was particularly upset at the situation. He knew his mother was doing her best, and he loved her fiercely for it. There was no doubt for anyone that this arrangement was beneficial for everyone.

“Um…” Hugo suddenly interrupted her musings, sat by the tree and rummaging around in the box of decorations. “What are _these_?”

He’d pulled out a long, thin line of plastic which Ethel didn’t really know the answer to.

“Oh wait, these are those muggle lights – fairy lights for Christmas!” Hugo answered himself. “I think Mum has some somewhere!”

“Aren’t they supposed to be… brighter?” Ethel pondered, wondering how on earth they could look ornamental like this. “Or maybe these are broken?”

“No, I don’t think so… they seem fine.”

Ethel sighed. “Are you sure this is how the muggles decorate their Christmas trees without magic? These lights look awful?” Her heart sank as she realised they must be defective – not exactly a big deal, except they had been her late mother’s, and it hurt to think she’d cared about something so much only for them to break for her daughter.

She looked at Hugo when she heard him huff in amusement.

“What?”

Hugo was smirking again, running his hand through that untameable afro, looking as if Ethel was being tremendously dim. “They’re electric. You have to plug them in, Ethel.”

Hm. If any other eight-year-old had said that Ethel knew it would have sounded pretentious and obnoxious, but Hugo was above all that. Despite not knowing what he was talking about, she suddenly felt relieved that at least one of them knew how to work the lights.

“Okay… ‘plug them in’? That sounds… never mind,” she was about to say it sounded phallic, but caught herself just in time. “What do we need to do? And how on earth do you know all this?”

Hugo, of course, was just looking up at her from the floor as if he knew exactly what she was going to say and couldn’t care less.

“Grandad’s always going on about muggles and their ways. He showed me his plug collection once, so I know how this should work. There should be a socket somewhere…” he scanned the walls, then crawled under the tree and started rooting around the back wall. After a few moments of Ethel worrying the tree would swallow him, he yelled out, “Aha!”

Point to Hugo. “What? Did you find what you’re looking for?” For a minute Ethel worried he’d get stuck behind the tree, lost amongst the thick branches forever. “Are you okay Hugo? Do you need help? Please don’t get stuck, I don’t fancy explaining to your mum that you died from asphyxiation behind my own Christmas tree…”

Before she’d completely finished speaking, the plastic line suddenly lit up exactly how she’d seen on her mother’s tree, the lights so bright and colourful that for a moment the memory of her and the hole she left threatened to overwhelm.

The voice from behind the foliage pulled her back from that edge. “Ooooh, look, there’s different settings…”

And sure enough the lights, which she had bundled up in her lap on the floor by what remained of Hugo’s legs, started to fade and glow brighter again, the different colours coming in and out of prominence, creating a definite funky vibe.

“Whoa…” she let out in amazement. Her mother’s lights definitely never did _this_.

Then suddenly they were flashing, slowly at first, then increasing in frequency. Ethel was bemused. “How on earth does this happen without magic? I can’t get my head around it!”

“Electricity Ethel.” Ethel could almost _hear_ the eye roll in his voice. “Which is the best setting?” Hugo sounded muffled from how far lost under the tree he was, bless him. “Once I come out I’m not coming back in!”

“Um… do the first one again…”

After a good few minutes of Ethel trying to decide and making Hugo try all the different settings over and over, Hugo emerged from under the tree, pine needles sticking out of his crazy hair, trying to hide his grin and pretending he was hacked off at being kept under the tree longer than strictly necessary.

“And after all that, you just wanted them on the most boring setting!” Hugo groaned as Ethel handed him his hot chocolate, the pair of them shifting from the floor onto the far more comfortable looking sofa.

“Good job Hugo. Bob and I would never have figured that out,” Ethel praised the boy, both relaxing back, curled up with each other, pleased at a job well done. She realised just then that it had grown dark outside, and with a flick of her wrist she conjured the fireplace into action.

“Music?” she asked.

“Music.” He replied.

“Celestina?”

“Celestina.”

She reached over, trying not to dislodge Hugo’s head on her shoulder, and turned on the wireless. Celestina Warbeck was belting out one her favourite Christmas hits, something Ethel knew would put them both to sleep imminently. Hugo was staying the night, so it didn’t exactly matter, and Bob would wake her up when he got home from work. For now, she was content just to sit and be there for Hugo, the son she never had.

**Author's Note:**

> Hugo and Ethel, the two least mentioned original characters in Cursed Child. They deserved their own thang. I'm passionate about this relationship now.


End file.
